


Little Things Like Us

by graceless_wolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Nobody Died, EVERYONES ALIVE!!!!!, M/M, NEW YEARS FIC!!!!!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 15:27:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1121495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graceless_wolf/pseuds/graceless_wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The pack’s New Year’s Eve party is less of a New Year’s party and more of a Thank-Whatever-Gods-That-None-of-Us-Actually-Permanently-Died-This-Year party, but it just so happens that they all happened to be free on December 31st, no thanks at all to Lydia’s planning or Stiles’ meddling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Things Like Us

The pack’s New Year’s Eve party is less of a New Year’s party and more of a Thank-Whatever-Gods-That-None-of-Us-Actually-Permanently-Died-This-Year party, but it just so happens that they all happened to be free on December 31st, no thanks at all to Lydia’s planning or Stiles’ meddling. Derek offers up the loft as a viable party venue, since the Hale house is still in the midst of reconstruction.

 

(“We aren’t doing white furniture, Lydia, are you kidding me?”  


“Why not?”

 

“Have you ever seen Scott eating Mexican food?” Isaac says, and it’s really too fond, but the point is made.)

 

Stiles shows up at the loft at six pm, sharp. Derek opens the door, clad only in flannel sleep pants. Stiles tries desperately to ignore how quickly his mouth goes dry.

 

“Gods, do you _ever_ wear clothes? And why are you wearing pajamas? It’s _six at night,_ Derek Hale,” he reprimands, sidling past Derek and into the loft.

 

Derek frowns, “Stiles, why are you here?”

 

Stiles rolls his eyes, lifting the large cardboard box overflowing with something suspiciously sparkly. “We’re decorating,” he says cheerfully.

 

“No, we aren’t,” Derek corrects. Stiles thinks that a sleepy Derek is literally the cutest thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

 

“Correct!” Stiles says, “ _I’m_ decorating! You’re going to shower, and get dressed, and use gods-know how much gel in your hair to get it to your normal level of sexy. Have fun!”

 

Derek stares at Stiles oddly for a moment, but blinks slowly and turns to the stairway, shambling up to the bathroom.

 

Stiles grins, small and private and to himself, and drops the box somewhat unceremoniously onto the couch.

 

“Alright,” he says, fervently ignoring the sound of hot water running in the upstairs shower, “Let’s get to work.”

 

~

 

The pack ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ appropriately as they enter the loft at eight pm. Derek comes down the stairs around the same time, and his jaw pops open in a wordless ‘o’. He shuts it after a second, but Stiles still sees it, and something like pride curls warm in his gut.

 

He’s hung fairy lights from every surface and corner he could reach. They’re draped from the ceiling and wound around the exposed beams and staircase railing. He’s pushed all the furniture into its own separate space, so as to free up most of the floor for a nest of blankets and pillows. There’s a table piled high with snacks and drinks. Yeah, Stiles knows what he’s doing.

 

Lydia nods at him and he fist pumps. Scott tackles him in a hug, yelling “Happy New Year, bro!” while he does it. Isaac and Allison lean against each other as they laugh, before Allison offers Scott a hand up. The pack knows that there’s something going on between the three of them, but they’re waiting for an actual announcement. Allison and Isaac are smart enough to figure it out, Scott was - Scott would figure it out in his own time.

 

\--

 

It’s nine pm when they’re all settled in the blanket pile, plates on their laps. Someone turned on music for background noise, and Stiles can’t really hear it, but he also doesn’t particularly care. The conversation is keeping his attention. Scott and Isaac are telling them horror stories from working at Deaton’s; Lydia is recounting some of their more amusing adventures over the past year. Erica and Boyd are swapping stupid jokes with Danny, and Derek is watching them all quietly. There’s a small smile on his face, and Stiles feels his heart melt, just a tiny bit.

 

\--

 

It’s ten pm when someone finds an old scrabble game in the back of Derek’s closet.

 

“What were you doing in my _room?”_ Derek is saying at the same time that everyone else is working out teams.

 

It works out that Scott and Isaac are a team, and so are Allison and Lydia (which, to be frank, is terrifying). Boyd and Erica are a team, and Jackson and Danny pair up as well. Which just leaves, “Well,” Stiles grins up at Derek, “looks like it’s you and me for the win, big guy.”

 

He pointedly ignores how Derek looks silently pleased, and they circle up around the worn, wooden board.

 

\--

 

It’s a quarter to eleven when Stiles and Derek win the game of scrabble.

 

“Oh my god,” Scott says, eyes wide and unbelieving, “you did not just win this game with the word ‘fellatio.’”

 

Everyone is looking at Stiles and Derek with either accusatory or disbelieving gazes.

 

Stiles simply smirks and holds up a hand for Derek to high-five. “What can I say?” Stiles says, a little too smug, “I was a gifted kid.”

 

Derek rolls his eyes.

 

\--

 

It’s eleven fifteen when Danny suggests a game of truth or dare. They’ve all settled into the ‘nest’ as Stiles has started calling it. Lydia is stretched out like a cat, with her head on Erica’s lap. Erica is settled between Boyd’s legs and against his chest. Scott, Allison, and Isaac are a pile of limbs and blankets and Stiles isn’t at all sure how they’re actually comfortable like that. Danny and Jackson are surprisingly close, legs tangled together. Jackson has his head bent towards Danny’s and they’re whispering about something. If the red on Jackson’s face is anything to go by, Stiles doesn’t think he wants to know. Danny looks far too proud of himself.

 

Derek is sitting cross-legged, and Stiles thinks that’s the most relaxed he’s ever seen him. Because he can, Stiles drapes himself across Derek’s lap. A surprised noise from Derek and a raised eyebrow from Lydia are the only reactions he gets.

 

“Truth or dare?” Scott says, sounding a little worried. Allison soothes a hand down his back.

 

“Oh hell yeah,” Stiles says, snuggling against Derek’s chest.

 

Derek swats at his arm and Stiles grins.

 

Lydia sits up and grins, feline. “Jackson first.”

 

Jackson sits up so quickly Stiles is surprised that he doesn’t break his neck.

 

“What?” Jackson asks.

 

Lydia giggles and buffs her nails on her collar. “So Jackson, truth or dare?”

 

Jackson looks like he’s going to be sick, but he still puffs out his chest and lifts his head. “Truth,” he says, much louder than he needs to. It looks like he’s trying to convince everyone in the room that he actually wants to do this, including himself.

 

Lydia’s grin widens, and even Stiles shrinks back into Derek. Derek’s chin lands gently on top of his head and Stiles smiles.

 

“If you had to kiss one guy in this room,” Lydia says, “who would it be?”

 

Jackson completely deflates. His eyes shift around, looking everywhere but Danny, before he takes a deep breath.

 

“Derek?” he says, but it’s so obviously a lie that everyone laughs. Including Derek, but he has the good grace to at least try and hide it in Stiles’ hair.

 

Lydia clicks her tongue, “Wrong answer, Jackson.”

 

Jackson turns red and mumbles something at the floor. It doesn’t take werewolf hearing to know what it was.

 

Lydia grins triumphantly as Jackson sits back again, further from Danny than he was before. No one says anything when Danny tugs him closer. They all just smile.

 

\--

 

It’s eleven forty five when they start running out of questions and dares. Scott had to kiss Isaac (which was more sweet than funny), Derek had to let Lydia do his make-up (“You look stunning.”

 

“Stiles, I’m going to kill you.”), and Stiles had to run around the building in just his underwear, while it was snowing.

 

They were back in their piles with Scott looking dopey, Derek looking irritated, and Stiles still curled in Derek’s lap, but this time he was wrapped in six blankets. Derek was concerned about hypothermia, and Stiles was insistent that he was going to lose a toe.

 

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Derek says.

 

“Please, Stilinski’s are known for doing dares the right way,” Stiles says, trying to rub feeling back into his nose.

 

“Even the stupid ones?”  


“ _Especially_ the stupid ones.”

 

“You’re an idiot.”

 

Stiles shrugs sleepily with his head resting on Derek’s chest, just drifting off when someone says his name.

 

“Stiles,” Isaac says – and oh, that expression can’t be good – “truth or dare.”

 

Stiles weighs his options. If he chooses truth, he’s likely to have to admit something he’d rather not have the pack know, but if he chooses dare, they might go easy on him. He is still in recovery from his last dare, after all.

 

“Dare,” he says, getting ready to crawl, however unwillingly, from Derek’s lap, when Isaac holds up a hand.

 

“Stay where you are,” Isaac says.

 

Stiles furrows his brow, but shrugs, settling back into Derek. Derek looks amused, bordering on alarmed, but still wraps an arm around Stiles to steady him. The six blankets don’t really help with his already lacking coordination abilities.

 

Isaac grins, and Stiles is almost more scared of him than of Lydia.

 

\--

 

It’s eleven fifty-eight when Isaac dares Stiles to kiss Derek until it’s the new year.

 

\--

  
It’s eleven fifty-nine when Stiles prays to whatever god is listening and presses his lips to Derek’s.

 

He was expecting cold, or bitter, or angry. He was expecting Derek to push him away as soon as possible, or not even go through with it.

 

What he wasn’t expecting was warmth and sweetness and Derek shifting just _so,_ so that his mouth slotted against Stiles in the most perfect way. He wasn’t expecting Derek to hold him closer on his lap, to kiss him generously and softly, and he certainly wasn’t expecting Derek to let him in when Stiles swiped his tongue across Derek’s bottom lip.

 

But that’s what _happens_ and it’s unbelievable and incredible and a little bit addictive because he’s pretty sure it’s been 2014 for at least five minutes now, and most of the pack has left the loft already, or at least retreated to different rooms to crash, and Stiles can’t even bring himself to care.

 

It’s twelve ten on January 1st when Stiles pulls away for air, staring at Derek in awe. Derek is looking at him with some kind of wonder in his eyes, like he’s just as shocked at this new development as Stiles is. Except, it doesn’t really feel like a new development. It feels like it’s been a long time coming.

 

It’s like all those afternoons when Stiles used the loft to study for school or for his lessons with Deaton; all those evenings where Stiles and Derek had cooked dinner for the pack together, learning how they worked together best in the kitchen to make enough food to feed six werewolves and four humans in a minimum amount of time; when Stiles told his dad about werewolves and the supernatural and _Derek_ was the one to stand beside Stiles while he did it, and to give his dad proof. All of it was just a countdown. To what? To this? This new, but still familiar feeling spreading through Stiles’ veins as Derek buries his face in Stiles’ neck.

 

Stiles cards his hair through Derek’s hair and hums appreciatively. The loft is silent, so everyone is either gone or asleep, and Stiles is feeling pretty sleepy himself. Derek’s hands are rubbing soothing patterns into his back, and he thinks he’d really just like to stay right where he is all night long.

 

“Happy new year, Hale,” Stiles says quietly, pressing a kiss to the side of Derek’s head.

 

“Happy new year, Stiles,” Derek returns with a kiss just behind Stiles’ ear.

 

“Hey Derek?”

 

“Yeah, Stiles?”

 

“You know I’m in love with you, right?”

 

Saying it, it’s not like a shocking discovery, or a sudden epiphany. It’s just another simple fact in this weird fucking life he’s been living since sophomore year.

 

Scott’s a werewolf, the alpha pack tried to use Stiles as bait because they knew Derek wouldn’t think straight, Lydia is allergic to shellfish, the moon is only light reflected off the sun, and Stiles is in love with Derek.

 

“Yeah, Stiles,” Derek smiles into his neck, “I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> as always i'm on tumblr @queerstiels


End file.
